A Brother's Heart
by Shellie Williams
Summary: When a young boy is kidnapped by a marine who believes the kid is responsible for his brother's death, the team find themselves cold and wet in the woods. An accident incapacitates McGee, and he inadvertently crosses the marine's path.
1. Chapter 1

**A Brother's Heart**

By Shellie Williams

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.

**A/N:** Written for the **NFA WEE** story exchange. Special thanks to Mackie, the Grammar Queen.

**Summary:** When a young boy is kidnapped by a marine who believes the kid is responsible for his brother's death, the team find themselves cold and wet in the woods. An accident incapacitates McGee, and he inadvertently crosses the marine's path. Can the others get to him before it's too late?

**~ One ~**

A ding announced the arrival of the elevator. McGee glanced up as Tony strolled leisurely into the office as if the scheduled part of the work day applied to everyone but him.

Ziva stopped working to give him a careful head to toe examination. Perhaps she was admiring the custom slacks and expensive button down shirt as Tony dropped his backpack behind his desk. But no; clearly her wry appraisal was focused on other concerns. "Forget your coat, Tony?"

"And a good morning to you, too, Ziva." Tony plopped into his chair and promptly leaned back to cross his ankles on the edge of his desk.

McGee's exasperation with his co-worker's tardiness gave way to humor. "Yeah, Tony, where's your coat?"

Tony's contented expression morphed quickly into a frown of confusion. It seemed he had finally noticed the coat draped over the back of Ziva's chair and McGee's heavy sweater. "What's with the winter wear? It's a beautiful, balmy morning. Spring has finally sprung, in case you hadn't noticed."

McGee grinned at Ziva. "He doesn't know."

She smirked back at him. "Shall we enlighten him?"

Tony must have read the signs and realized he was being teased. Sitting upright and waking his computer, he began checking his e-mail. Casually, as if it were no concern of his, he remarked, "What am I supposed to know?"

Finished with whatever she was working on, Ziva clicked the last button and smiled while she explained. "A cold front is moving in."

"What?" Dropping all pretense of doing anything constructive at his computer, Tony stared at McGee.

McGee moved to the open area. He aimed the remote toward the plasma and displayed a local weather channel. "See for yourself." He crossed his arms and watched Tony.

The weatherman on the screen waved his hand over the Washington, D.C. area then turned to face the camera.

"_We've hit our high for the day, folks. It's currently 65 degrees in the greater D.C. area, but that number will be dropping throughout the day."_

"No, no, no!" Tony stood to join McGee, taking the remote while ignoring the grin stretched across his partner's face and increased the volume.

"_The cold front is moving in from the northeast, bringing with it freezing rain that will slowly turn into sleet and possibly snow around midnight."_

"Someone needs to tell this guy it's spring. Spring, not winter – spring!"

"_Precipitation chances will increase from 60% this evening to 100% by early morning hours. No accumulation is expected, because the ground is too warm. Check those outdoor plants and bring in your pets, though. Looks like we're in for a cold forty-eight hours, at least."_

"Looks like nobody told him." Gleefully, McGee plucked the remote from Tony's hand.

Gibbs hurried into the office, hanging up his phone as he headed for his desk. McGee muted the volume.

"Gear up. We're heading out. We've got a missing boy. McGee, gas up the truck." Without looking, he tossed the keys then pulled out a drawer and reached for his gun.

"Why aren't the police handling it?" McGee caught the keys and grabbed his 'pack and his coat.

"Because a marine took him. Tony, where's your coat?"

Arm outstretched for his backpack, Tony froze. "Boss?" Realizing Gibbs hadn't slowed down, Tony grabbed his stuff and hurried to catch up.

"It's turning colder later today. Don't you listen to the weather?"

The elevator closed on Tony's look of surprise. But somewhere between changing into their NCIS jackets and gathering their equipment, Tony managed to find a coat. McGee couldn't help his double-take as he watched Tony squeeze into the back seat, clad in a thick, down filled Arctic-looking parka. _Now, where the hell -?_

No doubt entertained with McGee's expression of awe, Tony shut the door and made a show of adjusting fastenings and closures. "A Boy Scout is always prepared."

Twisted in his seat, McGee frowned. "You were never a Boy Scout, Tony."

"True. But Wayne in communications was. And he visits his parents once a year where they live - in Alaska."

"Of course he does." McGee turned back around to face the front as Gibbs drove out of the garage.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Two~**

Gibbs pulled the car into the driveway of a house nestled in a cul-de-sac. Two black and whites and a Sudan were parked on the street and in the driveway ahead of them. House numbers in pretty framed plaques identified 2113 and 2114, side by side. Gibbs nodded at the house they faced.

"This is where the boy lives. McGee, you're with me. Tony and Ziva, take the other house – that's where Lance Corporal Morrison and his family live."

McGee followed Gibbs to the door. Taupe siding and white trim decorated the outside of the house. Pretty landscaping transformed the yard into a garden oasis. A brisk breeze shook the delicate azalea blooms, reminding McGee of the coming weather. The deep burgundy paint on the door set the background for an ornate brass knocker. Gibbs ignored it and rapped his knuckles against the wood.

A policeman answered the door. When Gibbs showed his badge, he moved aside and let them enter. He cocked his head toward a room behind his shoulder. "Both Mrs. Morrison and Mrs. Taylor are in the living room. Brenda Morrison's the blond, Diane Taylor's beside her."

"Has there been any communication from Lance Corporal Morrison?"

The man shook his head and answered McGee. "No sir."

Gibbs nodded at the policeman and walked quietly into the room. The two women sat near each other on the loveseat, clasped hands intertwined. They both looked up as Gibbs came closer.

"NCIS – I'm agent Gibbs, this is Agent McGee." He shoved an ottoman closer with his knee and sat facing the women. His voice softened, creating a feeling of intimacy. Focusing, ignoring the surroundings and distracting noises, Gibbs turned to the closest woman. "Mrs. Taylor? Can you tell me why Lance Corporal Morrison would take your son?"

"He came home for the funeral." The other woman, Brenda Morrison, answered instead.

Gibbs didn't move, but allowed his eyes to shift to her. "Who's funeral?"

"Rodney's. My son; Eddie's - Lance Corporal Morrison's - younger brother."

Tim stepped closer, surprise registering on his face. "Morrison's brother was killed?"

Brenda caught her breath. A tear escaped and streamed down her face before she could wipe it away. "Yes. I contacted the state department, but they told me it would be impossible for me to reach Eddie where he was. Instead, his C.O. was given the information and told him. Within twenty-four hours, Eddie was home."

"How did your son die?"

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she pressed a tissue to her lips. Diane Taylor reached for her and put her arm around her. She answered for her friend, voice trembling and wet with unshed tears: "Rodney committed suicide, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs sat back and gave the women a moment. He leaned back and whispered to McGee. Tim left but returned with two glasses of water and offered them to the grieving women. Brenda Morrison accepted hers with a soft 'thank you' and took a sip. Diane slipped both hands around her glass and propped it on her knees.

"It's been a - a difficult few days, Agent Gibbs."

"I understand."

She lifted her head, her mouth open to disagree. But instead, she paused as she caught his eyes and saw pain there. "Yes, I believe you do." She took a deep breath and sat up straight. "Brenda didn't tell Eddie that Rodney - how Rodney died. She sent the message that he'd had an accident. It wasn't until he was here that she told him."

"I didn't want him to hear that kind of news from someone else." Mrs. Morrison defended herself. "It was difficult enough to know your brother's gone, but to know he was in some kind of pain before he died would have been - I knew Eddie would blame himself for not being here when his little brother needed him."

"So you waited until he came home."

"Yes. He wanted to know details; wanted to know exactly how it happened. I told him Jason had been with Rodney before -"

"Jason?"

"Jason Taylor. My oldest son." Diane Taylor smiled sadly and looked down at her hands. "He and Rodney practically grew up together." She looked back up at Gibbs. "We were a military family, Agent Gibbs. My husband was killed in Afghanistan nearly five years ago. Eddie became a sort of role model for my boys, and they looked up to him, like a father. Rodney and Jason are - were - best friends."

"When I told Eddie that Jason had been with Rodney right before he died, he ran out of the house and went next door." Brenda took up the story. She reached for her friend's hand again.

Diane nodded. "He burst into the house and went straight to Jason's room. I thought I'd give them a few minutes, but then I heard Jason shouting. Before I could - before I could -"

"He took Jason, Agent Gibbs. And he had a gun."

A thought began forming in Gibbs' mind. "Where are your other sons, Mrs. Taylor?"

A little startled with the question, she swallowed and blinked. "They're up in their rooms. Why?"

"Jason's the oldest?"

"Yes. Jason is fifteen. Brent's twelve and the twins are nine."

"Would you mind if I had a word with Brent?"

"Ah - no, - no, I guess that would be all right." She shifted as if to stand, but Gibbs stood and motioned for her to stay.

"I can find him. Where's his room?"

"Up the stairs and turn left. Second door on your right."

"Thank you." He took a step closer to McGee and lowered his voice. "Get both their statements and find out if there's any place that Morrison would take the boys, like for hunting or fishing. Tony and Ziva should be back soon. Tell them to wait here."

McGee nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

**~Three~**

Gibbs followed Mrs. Taylor's directions and found himself in front of a door with a sign: 'Brent's Room', hanging crookedly from a nail. Smiling, he knocked gently and waited for permission before entering.

A young boy sat at a desk, drawing. Posters adorned the walls and model airplanes strung with fishing line hung from the ceiling. An unmade bed filled one corner of the room. The rest of the wall space on one side was taken up with chest of drawers and a bureau. Gibbs touched one of the model airplanes, sending it swinging gently. "P-38."

Brent looked up. "That's my favorite."

"From World War II."

"Yeah. Those are the best."

Gibbs pointed at another one. "That's my favorite."

"The Warhawk."

"Used by the Flying Tigers."

"Yeah." Brent grinned and sat back down, this time facing Gibbs. His smile disappeared and he grew serious. "You're here to ask me about Rodney, aren't you?"

"My name is Gibbs, Brent. I'm here to help Jason. Rodney and Jason were buddies, huh?"

Brent nodded. He picked up a pencil from his desk and studied the eraser.

"Did Jason know Rodney had a gun, Brent?"

"He - he knew." He twisted in his chair and went back to his drawing.

Gibbs moved to the wall. He glanced out the window, then went down on one knee beside the desk. Brent wouldn't look at him. "What were they doing with the gun?"

Brent shrugged. "Just - stuff."

Gibbs waited a beat, then continued. "It was an accident." Brent's breathing hitched. Gibbs realized his hunch was right. "The gun went off when they were playing, didn't it?"

"Jason didn't mean to!" Panic squeezed Brent's voice tight and he stood up.

"I know he didn't."

"They were just playing, and it happened. Jason didn't know what to do! He ran out and came and told me. The police came, and we waited for them to come and take Jason to jail, but they didn't come."

"No one knew."

"Are you going to take Jason to jail?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No," he answered softly. "I just want to find him and help him. Did you hear what he and Lance Corporal - what they were arguing about?"

Brent sat back down. He seemed wrung out after his confession. "I heard Jason tell him. I heard Jason say it was his fault; that he killed Rodney." His lip quivered and he turned to Gibbs. "He didn't kill Rodney, did he?"

Gibbs reached for his shoulder. "No, he didn't kill anybody." He pushed against the desk and stood. "Can you finish your drawing? I need to go talk to your mom for a minute."

Brent nodded and picked up his pencil. "Is Eddie in trouble? He was pretty mad at Jason."

A chill settled over Gibbs' heart. "I hope he's not, Brent. I'll let you know when I find him." Leaving the door open, Gibbs went back downstairs. He took a deep breath, knowing he was about to add to the already heavy burden weighing on both mothers' shoulders.

When he entered the living room he found Tony and Ziva had arrived. Ziva stood near Diane, talking softly, looking down occasionally to write in her notebook. Tony and McGee sat with Brenda in the adjoining dining room, listening as she spoke quietly to them. Both women looked up when Gibbs joined them. Diane stood and moved toward him, perhaps her mother's instinct letting her know that something was wrong.

"What did Brent say?"

Gibbs hooked her elbow and gently but firmly led her back to her chair. When she sat, he pulled another chair near and joined her. "I don't think Rodney committed suicide."

Diane lifted both hands to cover her mouth. Brenda walked up behind her and touched her on the shoulder. "How do you know?"

Gibbs kept his eyes trained on Diane. He focused on her, made sure she was listening to him. "Brent admitted that Jason and Rodney were handling the gun when it went off, and that it was an accident."

"Oh my god."

Gibbs' stare flicked up to Brenda before focusing back on Diane. "Jason blames himself; he believes Rodney's death is his fault. That's what he told Lance Corporal Morrison when he came to talk to him."

"But if Eddie think it's Jason's fault -"

"No." Brenda shook her head and repeated, vehemently: _"No! _Eddie wouldn't hurt Jason. He loves Jason like a son. He wouldn't -"

"Mrs. Morrison, we need to find them. Is there any place where Edward takes the boys to hunt or fish, or camping?"

Diane turned to look at Brenda. "Our cabin at Cunningham Falls.

"I need an address. There's a good chance that's where Lance Corporal Morrison took Jason."

Brenda nodded. "I can get that for you." She turned and walked away. McGee followed her.

"Agent Gibbs. Eddie is heartbroken over Rodney's death, but no matter how much Jason believes he's responsible, Eddie would not hurt him." Diane stood and reached for Gibbs' arm. "I know this, believe me. Please, don't hurt Eddie. Brenda's lost one son. If she were to lose both of them it would - she would -"

Gibbs touched her hand. "We'll find Jason, Mrs. Taylor."

The assurance in his voice seemed to calm her. She nodded, then stepped back and pressed one hand against her lips.

"I've got the address, Boss." McGee came back into the room, Mrs. Morrison close behind.

Gibbs nodded. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**~Four~**

They quietly filed out of the house. McGee shivered with the noticeable drop in temperature. He glanced at the sky before getting into the car, eyeing clouds growing heavy and dark with moisture. Gibbs quickly started the car and drove away. Computer in hand, McGee began immediately checking for a route to the campsite. He gave directions to Gibbs, then redirected his search for Lance Corporal Morrison's record. Within minutes, he had the information he needed.

"Morrison received two commendations for valor, and has earned extemporary marks from his Commanding Officers. He's also a certified EMT. There are no black marks on his record, Boss. Mrs. Morrison told me that Eddie's - Lance Corporal Morrison's - father left them when Edward was ten, right after his brother, Rodney, was born. He enlisted as soon as he was old enough. Rodney is - _was_ a good student; he made good grades and stayed out of trouble. Jason was a mirror image of Rodney."

"Do you think Lance Corporal Morrison intends to hurt Jason?"

Gibbs stayed silent with Ziva's question, but Tony answered. "Depends on how pissed off he is. If Jason confessed, believing Rodney's death is his responsibility, it's possible."

"He is armed, and he is a soldier. I think it would be wise of us to expect the Lance Corporal to go on the defense when we arrive."

"We're not going in with our guns blazing, Ziva. Our most important objective is to get that boy back to his mother. Alive."

Ziva nodded once. "I understand, Gibbs. But it does not hurt to be prepared."

"Always, Ziva. Always."

Within the hour, the raindrops splattering against the windshield changed into ice pellets pinging off the glass. McGee shivered, even though he and the others were nice and warm inside the car. He glanced sideways out of the window to study the darkening sky. "Looks like the temperature is still dropping."

"It's summer, for crying out loud. Isn't this against the law of nature, or something?"

Tony's grumbling made Ziva smile.

"Turn left here, Boss."

Gibbs took the turn and they all braced themselves as the car bumped and bounced over the rough and uneven road. A green sign announced they were entering Cunningham Falls State Park.

"The cabin's about two miles in. We should come to a fork, where you'll bear right, and then it's another mile from there. I don't think you'll be able to park by the cabin, though."

"How far do we have to walk, McGee?" Resignation in Tony's voice brought a smirk to Ziva's face.

"There's a parking area at the base of the mountain. We'll have to hike less than a mile uphill to the cabin."

They arrived at the fork in the road. Gibbs turned right and kept going. Within a few minutes, the trees opened up into a parking area. The pavement ended, giving way to a layer of gravel. No other vehicles were there. Gibbs chose a space near a small wooden sign. While the others got out of the car and checked their backpacks and weapons, Gibbs walked to the sign and read the information there. A map, protected by a thick plastic covering bolted over it, showed the location of each cabin and various landmarks. The wind had picked up considerably. A moderate rain, with a light sleet mix, fell in a steady pattern, wet and chilling.

"McGee - what's the cabin number?"

Tim joined Gibbs while zipping up his 'pack. "Number eight, according to Mrs. Morrison."

Gibbs reached up to tap the number on the map. "Almost a mile up the mountain." He turned to the others. "I don't want to spook him, but I don't want to give him any targets, either."

"So, you want us to fly casual?"

Gibbs looked at Tim and frowned.

"Keep your distance, but don't _look_ like you're keeping your distance - fly casual. Episode 6: Return of the Jedi."

"And yet another Star Wars reference from the Elf Lord."

McGee's and Tony's grins disappeared with a stinging slap to the backs of their heads. "Sorry, boss," their voices chorused.

"I'll go straight up the trail. McGee, you stay 20 yards to my right, Tony, 20 yards to my left. Ziva, you hang back and bring up the rear. He'll see me, but I don't want him to see the rest of you. Ziva, circle around wide and head for the back door. Ready?" He waited until each of them nodded in agreement, then slid his gun out, turned and headed for the trail. In his peripheral view, he saw Tony and McGee take their positions. Without looking, he knew Ziva would be somewhere behind him. Shoulders growing wet with rain, sleet pelting intermittently against his face, Gibbs started up the trail.


	5. Chapter 5

**~Five~**

A canopy of branches overhead helped shield most of the rain and sleet, but dripping leaves kept the team wet as they moved up the side of the mountain. McGee gripped a sapling to pull himself up the trail. At least the hike was warming him up and had stopped his teeth from chattering.

His boot slipped on slick undergrowth and he went down on one knee. Keeping the growl of frustration locked in his throat, he glanced across at Tony, ignored his gleeful grin, and struggled back to his feet. When this was over he was going to enjoy a hot shower, then enshroud himself in flannel and revel in the comfort of being warm again.

Keeping his eyes on the ground to avoid roots and other snares helped him keep his footing, but probably wasn't the safest way to approach the cabin. A brief glimpse ahead revealed what appeared to be a stack of deadfall; probably caught there after the last big rain. Dead tree trunks, branches and underbrush created a wall too thick to see through. Blackened with age, dark and wet, the whole pile looked like it would take a bulldozer to break through. McGee paused, both feet planted firmly, and searched for Gibbs. Should he circle around this obstruction, climb over it - what?

A man's voice cried out. McGee recognized it as Tony and took a step toward his position. An instant later the deadfall in front of him exploded. He had time to shield his head with his arms before the avalanche overtook him. It caught him just below the knees, flipped him up and over, and he found himself rolling with a dark mass of deadfall. He discovered that although those tree trunks _looked_ dead and harmless, they were as solid as a brick wall. It tossed him around, punching and prodding, then dumped him on his back and left him breathless as it rolled on down the mountain.

Morrison heard the noise of the avalanche. His mind drifted to the memory of him, Rodney, and Jason building it; dragging old dead trees, stacking all the branches they could find, stuffing bushes in between. He smiled when he remembered the boys talking of surprising their enemies; their imaginations filled of battles with German soldiers, or aliens, whichever seemed to have their interest at the time. Their laughter echoed in his head, then died away, and the smile that curled his lips faded with the memory. That time was past. His time with Rodney was past. Rodney was gone.

He drew in a deep breath and released it, wishing he could release the tight knot of pain in his chest as easily. He needed more time; he wasn't ready to face people yet. He just needed to work through his brother's death, and Jason's part in that death, before moving on. He needed a button he could push so that everything would stop - just _stop_ - so he could think. But that booby trap was less than fifty yards from the cabin; and if whoever was coming after him half knew what they were doing, they had someone circling around to cover the back. His time for thinking was over; he had to move now if he didn't want to be caught.

Shoving the last water bottle in his bag, he zipped it, then double-checked his weapon to make sure it was on safety, and tucked it inside the back of his jeans. Tugging on his parka, he wordlessly grabbed Jason's arm and pulled him out of the cabin with him. There was more than one path back down the mountain, and even though it would take some time, he knew the one that avoided the obvious trail and would take him back to just below where they'd built the trap. Besides, he'd taken the time to lay a false trail earlier this morning, and if his luck would hold, that would throw them off once they discovered he'd already left the cabin and buy him some time.

If he could get back to the trail undetected, they'd have a clear path to the parking area. He was willing to bet a car would be there, driven by whoever was coming for them. He knew how to start it, and they'd be on their way. Then he could deal with Jason.

His vision swam in and out. Gibbs leaned over him, his mouth moving, but McGee couldn't make sense of what he was saying. He hurt; everything hurt. It felt as if he'd been through a giant blender, and his body was still being tossed around. Then suddenly, all of the different sounds and images melded into one, and his focus cleared.

" -Gee, can you hear me?"

Tony joined Gibbs in leaning over McGee. "My fault, Boss. I didn't see the tripwire until after I'd - tripped it."

Gibbs ignored him and touched McGee's face. "McGee?"

"I - I hear you."

"Can you move?"

McGee braced himself. When the others saw his struggle, Gibbs slid his hand to his back while Tony did the same from the other side. McGee froze and sucked in a quick breath. Gibbs and Tony held him steady.

"Is it your back? Your head?"

"Your ribs?"

McGee shook his head. "My - my leg."

Tony shifted behind so McGee could lean against him while Gibbs moved to check out his legs. It was immediately apparent which leg was injured; McGee's right pants leg had ripped, revealing torn skin already mottled blue with contusions. While no bones were protruding, Gibbs was fairly certain McGee's leg was broken. Gibbs sighed and sat back on his heels. He did a visual search of the woods while Ziva joined them, quiet as a shadow.

"What happened?"

"Morrison set a tripwire on the north side of the trail that triggered a trap on the south side." Gibbs glanced up toward the cabin. "He knows we're here." He turned back to McGee.

McGee read the expression on Gibbs' face and knew the dilemma he faced. He decided to make it easy on him. "Look, we're nearly there, and if Morrison escapes there's no telling where he'll take Jason." He pointed toward some of the deadfall that had stacked itself against some trees, creating a natural shelter. "Just help me get out of the rain and keep going. I'll be fine."

Gibbs waited, eyes piercing through McGee and judging his offer. "You sure, McGee?"

McGee nodded. "You said it yourself, Boss: Our main objective is to save that kid. This may be our best chance to do that."

Seconds passed where McGee didn't dare look away, afraid any hesitation on his part would change Gibbs' mind and they'd be headed back down the mountain toward the car. Finally, Gibbs seemed satisfied. "Tony, hook under his arms, I've got his legs. Easy, now, take it easy."

Despite their care, being carried that short distance woke every ache and pain in McGee's body. Ribs, shoulders, back, belly, hips - everything cried out for attention. Then Tony slid and nearly fell and the move Gibbs made to compensate jostled Tim's leg, which nearly sent him screaming into oblivion. A weird buzz started in his head and his racing heart kept time with the throbbing pain shooting through his leg. He knew they must have reached their destination, because he wasn't moving anymore, but for the life of him he couldn't answer when he heard Gibbs' call his name.

Locking his teeth together, McGee forced his breathing into a more steady rhythm. "I'm okay - I'm good."

A rare grin tugged at the corner of Gibbs' mouth and he reached to pat McGee gently on the face. "Not yet, McGee, but you will be." Sliding his hand around to cup the back of McGee's skull, he gently forced McGee's head back and looked into his eyes. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. He drew back and moved away.

"Tony, wrap up his leg. Ziva, help me build up this deadfall and keep a little more rain off."

Tony appeared beside him, backpack in hand. He began pulling out supplies. "I'll find a way to make this up to you, McGee."

McGee tilted his head back to rest on the fallen tree behind him and closed his eyes. "Forget it, Tony. I'm sure if our situation were reversed, I'd be doing the same for you." He straightened abruptly with a sharp cry and reached for his leg.

Tony sucked in his breath through clenched teeth. "Sorry!" Gently, he loosened the bandages he'd wound around Tim's leg. "Where's the autopsy gremlin when you need him?"

Tim's eyes snapped open. "You think I'm dying?"

Tony froze. "No - no, that's not what I meant." Carefully, he tended to McGee's injury. "I just meant that Jimmy's or Ducky's first aid skills would be useful right about now."

Tim collapsed back against his tree. "Yeah, and a roof over my head and a bed wouldn't be too bad, either."

Gibbs rejoined them, Ziva just behind. "Finished, Tony?" Seeing Tony stuff supplies back into his bag and zip it closed, Gibbs gave a quick nod. "McGee, this shouldn't take long. We'll come back for you as soon as we have Jason. Just sit tight and stay quiet."

"Yeah, Boss."

With one last look at McGee, Gibbs directed Tony and Ziva to take up their positions, then they started back up the trail.


	6. Chapter 6

**~Six~**

Barely fifteen minutes after they left, McGee pulled his coat together tighter beneath his chin, unable to shake an unexpected feeling of abandonment. The wind chill had to be at least freezing by now. No matter how he hunched his shoulders and curled his body, icy cold still ran spine chilling fingers through him. The quiet unnerved him. Water dripped, sleet made little noises as it hit the foliage, but there didn't seem to be any other _movement_ around him. He knew he should be grateful that no curious animals were stopping to check him out, and that the blood from his wound wasn't attracting something looking for a meal. But ever since the team had walked away, it was as if a bubble of silence had settled around him. He found it disquieting.

A hot stab of pain shot through his leg. Instead of dissipating, his discomfort grew. He leaned forward and looked at his leg, but couldn't tell if the bleeding had stopped or worsened. The bandage looked about the same to him, but a steady, throbbing pain had taken residence in his leg. On the plus side, it helped him ignore the other irritating twinges of pain vying for attention. On the minus side, the pain intensified until he felt as if it would shoot through him and explode out the top of his head.

Then he heard something that froze his breath: a footstep. Hoping he was mistaken, he listened, concentrating on separating out the various noises around him: dripping water, soft pinging of bits of sleet, the white noise of nothing, and then - the definite sound of a foot stepping on saturated foliage. He didn't question how he knew that sound, he only knew that someone was approaching him. If it were one of his friends coming back, they would have called out to him by now, which meant the person was either a stranger, or, factoring in McGee's tremendously bad luck, it was Morrison.

Gripping his weapon, McGee pushed against the ground and attempted to stand. His struggles and the resulting pitiful cry muffled between clenched lips surely alerted his stalker to his presence. Still, he refused to just sit back and be taken. Resigned to facing the enemy sitting down, McGee tightened his fingers around his gun and tried to look everywhere at once. A dark shape rushed at him from the side. Before he could swing his gun around, a fist exploded against his jaw. Darkness swooped down with feathery wings and scooped him up into nothingness.

Voices argued with each other. He waited for recognition to take hold and siphon the unfamiliar sounds into people he knew. Instead, he drifted up toward awareness and blinked his eyes open to two strangers bending over him. McGee gasped in surprise. The big man, buzz cut, shoulders as wide as a football stadium, turned to him with a kind expression of worry. The young boy behind him put a hand on his arm and leaned closer. Wait. If this was Jason and Lance Corporal Morrison, shouldn't Jason be cringing in fear and Morrison have some sort of unpleasant glare that curled his lips and made him look more like a monster? Confusion reigned, crowning itself king in McGee's head.

"Hey. You okay?"

Confusion chose a queen: dumbfounded.

Morrison must have interpreted the look on McGee's face. He smiled, further throwing McGee's thoughts into chaos. "I'm sorry I hit you. I saw your gun and couldn't think of a safer way to disarm you."

McGee opened his mouth, hoping something intelligent would present itself, but his leg chose that moment to remind him of his injury. Instead, he grimaced and grabbed for his wound.

"You have compartment syndrome."

"What?"

"Compartment syndrome. It's when the pressure is building up inside your leg and needs to be released."

"Is - is it terminal?"

"No. But if something isn't done soon, you could slip into shock and die." Morrison shook his head. "Look, this is my fault; I'm the one who set the booby trap -"

"Me and Rodney -" The kid tried to interrupt, but one look from Morrison stopped him.

"Yeah, you and Rodney did help build it, Jason. But it was my idea." He turned back to McGee. "Let me help. I can make a long incision in the fascia; that will relief the pressure and your pain, and you'll be fine until we can get you to a doctor." He reached into his backpack, pulled out what looked like a bandana, some bandages, and a knife.

Fear gripped McGee's heart and he pushed himself up a little straighter. "You said - how - how long of an incision do you need to make?" McGee swallowed and blinked, then locked his eyes on Morrison's face. "Never mind - I don't want to know."

Morrison twisted the bandana until it looked like something you'd tie around your head, then leaned forward and waited until McGee opened his mouth. He slipped it between McGee's teeth. "Bite down on that. It'll help. And hang onto something." Pouring alcohol over the knife blade, he told Jason, "Head down for the car, kid. Hotwire it like I've shown you and run the heater. We'll follow you as soon as we can." Jason turned to leave. Morrison reached out and caught his arm. When the kid looked at him, he smiled. "Be careful. It's going to be okay." Jason gave an answering smile and nodded, then left.

"He doesn't seem very frightened of you."

Focused on getting his supplies ready, Morrison glanced at him and then back at his hands. "He doesn't have any reason to be. I was pretty angry when I grabbed him and took him up here." He paused and grew still. "But the poor kid felt so guilty." A deep sigh lifted his shoulder. "I was guilty, too. We talked, got some things said, and I figured out I couldn't blame him for Rodney's death."

His voice quiet, McGee ventured, "You can't blame yourself, either."

Morrison looked at him. "I know." He straightened his shoulders and got down to business. "This is going to hurt, sir. Just hold on to something."

McGee glanced to the left and right and found two saplings he could grip, then braced himself as Morrison drew closer. Instead of watching, McGee squeezed his eyes shut. Pressure touched his leg, bared down, then sliced through him with lightening speed. Mind-numbing pain sickened him; nausea rolled in thick waves through his belly. Weakness gripped him and he lost all strength. He melted boneless against the ground. His jaw slackened with unconsciousness, and the twisted bandana rolled gently out of his mouth.

Morrison checked McGee's pulse, then quickly began binding the incision.


	7. Chapter 7

**~Seven~**

It took longer to reach the cabin than he'd anticipated. With one man short, Gibbs decided to approach the cabin from the front, instead of sending Ziva circling around to the back. They'd lost their advantage when Tony hit the tripwire, anyway. Morrison knew they were coming - Gibbs figured on walking up to the front door. But with the ground washed away in areas because of the recent surge of rainfall, and the overgrown bushes that wove together and conspired to create impenetrable walls, they had to backtrack and circle around to the main trail so many times, it took much longer to reach their destination.

By the time Gibbs stepped onto the small front porch and approached the door, he knew much more time had passed than he intended in leaving McGee alone. Worry had begun to gnaw at his gut, and he knew better than to ignore it.

Back pressed to the wall beside the door, weapon ready, he knocked and announced, "NCIS, Morrison. We just want to talk."

Ziva caught his eye from the corner. He nodded and she disappeared around the side of the cabin. Tony joined him on the porch and hugged the wall on the other side of the door. "Open the door, Morrison. Let us in."

A loud squeak of wet wood alerted Gibbs that Ziva was through the backdoor. He grabbed the handle and surged through the front, Tony right behind. The one room cabin was obviously empty, but they spread out and searched for hiding places, anyway.

Ziva moved to the center of the small room. "They're gone."

"But they haven't been gone long, Boss." Tony pointed to the small wood-burning stove sitting in the corner. "Fire's still burning."

"He knew we were coming. And he had plenty of time to leave." Gibbs put his gun away. "We would have seen them if they'd come out the front, so they must have left out the back." He stepped out of the cabin and the others followed. Within just a few minutes of searching he found what he was looking for: signs of the trail that Morrison had made. He stood still, visually sweeping the mountain, head craned back as he followed his sight up. It didn't make sense for Morrison to head farther up; how could he expect to escape that way? His gut gave a twinge, talking to him, and Gibbs listened. He tossed aside the small broken branch he'd found and instead turned on his heel and headed back the way they'd come.

"This has taken too long."

"Boss?" Confusion laced Tony's question even as he followed.

Ziva voiced her doubts. "I thought the trail led farther up the mountain."

"That's what he wants us to think. Morrison has circled around and is headed back down the mountain."

"Toward McGee." Tony's steps quickened and he noticed Ziva caught up, as well.

The way down took less than half the time the way up had. When he knew they were close Gibbs stopped and held up his hand. Tony and Ziva drew up beside him. "Tony, you go left, Ziva, right. Try to stay as quiet as possible."

The rain and sleet had ceased some time ago, but the temperature had continued its downward plunge. Unbelievably, a tiny dusting of snow began to fall, smudging the air white and gray. Dark, wet wood absorbed the extra moisture quickly, swallowing any evidence of a wintry mix. By morning, no one would believe it had snowed unless they'd seen it with their own eyes.

Gibbs kept his lips pressed together, but could do nothing to hide the white clouds of warm breath escaping from his nose. Wet ground and saturated undergrowth acted like a cushion underfoot, cradling his steps as gently as carpet. He made no sound as he slowly advanced toward the man leaning over McGee. He ignored how still McGee lay, pushing his worry aside for the moment. But when he saw the knife gripped in Morrison's fist, he could wait no longer.

"Freeze! NCIS! Put the weapon down, Morrison, and move away from him."

Morrison held both hands shoulder high, dropped the knife, stood up, and turned to face Gibbs. "This isn't what you think, sir."

Gibbs' eyes squinted dangerously. He was about to respond when McGee groaned and shifted against the ground. Morrison lowered his hands but Gibbs persuaded him to keep them where he could see them. "Freeze, dirtbag. Stay away from him." He took a sidestep closer to McGee. "McGee? You all right?"

"Boss?"

"How's your leg?" Keeping his hands up, Morrison turned his head to look at McGee.

McGee seemed to take an internal inventory, then surprise hit his face. "Better. Much better."

"Morrison - where's Jason?"

Morrison turned back to Gibbs. "He's in your car, probably nice and toasty by now. I taught him and Rodney -" his voice faltered for a second. He cleared his throat and continued, " - I taught Jason and my brother how to hotwire cars. I'm sure that's something else you can add to the charges."

Gibbs put his gun away. Ziva moved in close and knelt by McGee. McGee nodded at her question and looked back up at Gibbs. "He saved my life, Boss. I developed some kind of syndrome in my leg and he -"

"Compartment Syndrome. I didn't save his life, really, I just made him more comfortable." He turned around when Gibbs gently pushed against his shoulder and told him to put his hands behind his back. Gibbs clicked the handcuffs in place, then pulled Morrison back around. "I just needed to get my head straight, sir."

Gibbs nodded, quiet understanding in his lifted brows. "I hope you got it together, marine, because there's some people who have a lot of questions for you."

McGee struggled to his feet with assistance from Tony and Ziva. He held his hurt leg slightly forward and put all his weight on his good leg. Within just a few steps, it was clear that his weight was too much for Ziva. She and Gibbs switched places. It was a long way back down the mountain. Before they reached the car, the cuffs were removed and Morrison took his turn at McGee's side. He and Tony managed to get McGee into the car without bumping his leg too badly, then joined him in the back seat.

Ziva opened the front door, made shooing motions toward Jason, and scooted in beside him. Gibbs slid in behind the wheel, made a quick head count, then shifted the car into drive and headed for the hospital. He decided not to mention the keyless ignition until later.


	8. Chapter 8

**~Eight~**

McGee's leg wasn't broken, just very badly bruised. Morrison had correctly diagnosed the compartment syndrome. The incision he'd made to release internal pressure was properly cleaned and stitched, and McGee was released. Gibbs promised Morrison he'd have a talk with the D.A. and testify on his behalf, then watched as he was taken into custody.

McGee had been issued antibiotics and a mild pain killer, both for his leg and for the various and sundry other aches and pains suffered because of the avalanche.

Gibbs and Tony drove McGee home. The pain killers had already started their work, and by the time they had McGee in his apartment, his head lolled about on his shoulders. Tony managed to remove McGee's shirt and belt before they made it as far as the bedroom, then pulled off his shoes once McGee lay flat on his back. He grinned when McGee curled to his side and immediately began snoring.

He felt as if he were being watched and looked up to find Gibbs studying him. "What?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Nothing."

Tony wagged a finger at him, then bent to tug the covers from under Tim and throw them over his legs. "I know what you're thinking - you bicker and tease each other at the office, but when it comes down to it, you both have each other's backs." Not giving Gibbs time to reply, Tony continued as he bent to retrieve McGee's shoes and walked across the room to toss them into the closet, "We're like brothers, or first cousins - we're opposites, but we make a good team, like Lewis and Martin - Abbott and Costello - "

"Lenny and Squiggy."

Tony paused, hand frozen as he reached for McGee's discarded shirt and belt. "Nice reference, Boss. I wouldn't think you'd be a Laverne and Shirley guy, but I can see I'm wrong."

Gibbs held up his hand when it was clear Tony was going to continue. "You've convinced me, DiNozzo. You and McGee are partners. You watch each other's backs." He shook his head and turned to leave, then thought of something and turned back. "You staying?"

Finished draping McGee's shirt over his desk chair, DiNozzo dusted off his hands. "Yep. That's what -"

"Partner's do. I know. Get some sleep, Lewis."

"Hey, I'm Martin - _he's_ Lewis!" He pretended not to hear the mumbled reply: "You're _both_ loony," and went back to his straightening, then quickly decided he'd done enough. Dragging McGee's sleeping bag out of the closet, Tony unrolled it, undressed down to his boxers and t-shirt, and did his best to find the softest spot on the floor.

The extremely satisfying feeling of a case ending well lulled him to sleep.

**The End**


End file.
